Today, the day after the gale quieted, a couple of swallows have landed on the bow of the boat. We are over 1,000 kms from anywhere. We are in the middle of the freaking Pacific Ocean! Where did they come from? We named them Mr. and Mrs. Mirlos (mirlos=swallows in Spanish).They were quite fearless and perched right next to us. They looked very exhausted, poor things. No doubt they were seeking rest after being blown and buffeted by the storm.
Over the course of the afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Mirlos were joined by five more. They flitted away at sunset, but after dinner, Josje came to tell me that a swallow had taken roost in my berth. Sure enough, there it was, looking very tired and very comfortable on the bookshelf--his feathers all fluffed up and comfy. I thought I was going to have to give him a serious talking-to about whose bunk it belonged to. He stayed there for quite a while. I half expected to come back and find him tucked in on my pillow, reading one of my books. Sadly I had to catch the little fellow and let him out one of the hatches.
We found a couple of swallows dead on the deck over the next two days. They had made it through the storm to a resting place (our boat) and then died of exhaustion, poor little guys. We tried to feed the ones that survived with bits of old bread and fruit. They were so cute; they'd sit next to us and just hang out.